eclectica, ephemera and flying along the pavement

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Turgutreis and Kadikalesi

Saturday – market day in Turgutreis. After breakfast with Seray, I grabbed my bike and rode up the hill towards the gumbet – disused cistern – at the top of the hill and took the opportunity to take a few pictures of my little Styrofoam lily pad koreks, still floating around on the water along with the discarded pop and water bottles and other assorted junk. Whitewashed the last time I’d seen it, between now and then the cistern has been spray painted with graffiti once again. I rode up and over the hill behind the Academy, pausing briefly at the top to take a few pictures of the ten day homes. Someone was telling Ilknur that the Greeks living on Kos, the nearest Greek island to here, mock the Turks for having sold off all their land for these ghastly housing developments. I zoomed down the hill, bouncing over the many speed bumps, and rode along the main road to the Turgutreis market where I spent some time looking at textiles and long summery dresses without buying anything.

Earlier this week, I received an email from the President of the Cracow International Print Triennial informing me that my works had qualified to the Phase 2 of selection of the International Print Triennial Krakow 2009. The deadline for submission is June 15 – not very far away – and so I needed to get my work printed so it can be sent off tout suite. Asking around the market area for large format printing, a restaurateur took me to a tiny stationery and art supplies shop which, lo and behold, had a large format printer. Amazingly, I had my flash drive in my purse with two of the images on it (this without any planning at all on my part) – what are the chances of that, I thought to myself. Anyway, I watched and waited as the guy and his helper printed out my pictures in between helping what seemed like a million people with photocopy jobs. With my two rolled prints in hand, I then hunted around for a big plastic tube, finally finding one at a hardware store. I inserted the prints into the tube, taped up the ends with plastic and strapped the whole thing to my bike’s crossbar with two luggage straps bought at the dollar store. Because the tube is quite big around, it was difficult to ride since my left knee was pointed out at an awkward angle. Anyway, I managed to make my way out of town back along the main road and decided to stop at the Kadikalesi beach for a break.

Seray had told me about Kekik Beach Bar so I rolled down the laneway, onto the beach and found Kekik without any trouble. A somewhat laissez-faire structure greeted me, with two chillout areas and a covering of very dry, old palm fronds, rickety old chairs and tables, and sun beds out front. I felt right at home. The place was very pleasant, patronized by Turks on holiday; families with several generations of people played and lounged. One granny dressed in a stylish brown Turban and lacy knee socks was knitting a sweater while her daughter made a sand castle. Two men gutted fish and threw the guts into the water. Four kids floated on bits of Styrofoam and tossed small fish at one another. Two dogs lounged lazily. I lay down on a sun bed and just about fell asleep in the very warm sun; waking up with a snort, I decided to go for a swim. I have not swum in the ocean since Kas – it was very nice, cool but refreshing. After, I sampled some fries – good – and lemonade – not so good, before rearranging my tube on my handlebars and pedaling back along the main drag.

On the way back, I stopped briefly at the municipal cemetery. I have been riding past this gravesite for three weeks and not stopped so now was the moment. I looked around at the carvings on display, a strange variety of subjects and styles – lots of lions, for some reason. And the graveyard itself was peaceful as the sun’s rays were slanting across it. I remember when I first visited Turkish graveyards, I thought to myself, “Wow – there sure are a lot of R. Fatiha’s in this town”, since many of the headstones had this inscription. It took me a bit of time to realize that “Ruhuna Fatiha” must mean something like “Rest in Peace” … sheesh.

Back at the ranch, I was still a bit peckish so I strolled over to the Foundation dining hall where pots of food are usually waiting on the counters. Tonight – o joy! – chicken. I have not been eating much meat for the last while, with the occasional exception of what the Turks call sausage, and I would call bologna, put in borek or mixed toast. Most often, there is a starch dish, pasta, rice or cous cous, some kind of mostly vegetable stew, and, often, salad. Today, for the first time, there was roast chicken and I thoroughly enjoyed it.